


Follow The Angels

by MaliceManaged



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Thor (2011), Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Loki Needs a Hug, Murder, Revenge, Tumblr Prompt, Tumblr: imagine-loki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 06:08:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11075622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaliceManaged/pseuds/MaliceManaged
Summary: Sometimes, the saying 'appearances can be deceiving' is quite the understatement...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this prompt: _Imagine meeting Loki in a forest… When you’re both trying to dispose of a body_
> 
> This thing got out of hand several times, but dammit it's finished now! Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go break something. XD

    If there was ever a time for practical footwear; it was when one found oneself walking through the woods. Alas, she had not chosen such this particular evening; a decision quickly regretted as she stumbled over a small pile of haphazardly fallen twigs and leaves, nearly falling face first onto the dirt. Of course, she hadn’t exactly planned to spend the evening away from the level asphalt that paved the city she called home on a good day; which was why she was dressed in a short dark red dress and black three-inch heels.

 

    She hissed out a curse as she stumbled again, this time falling to the ground and dropping the rope that tied the wrapped up tarp she’d been dragging behind her in the process. She brushed her dark hair out of her face irritably, wishing she’d thought to tie it back, then stood, brushing dirt off her knees and thighs with a quiet grumble and picking up the rope again, heaving its burden forward with a grunt before beginning to pull it behind her again as she continued to walk. She heard a twig snap nearby and froze, looking around her as best she could in the relative darkness the moonlight couldn’t banish. Hearing nothing further, she continued on more warily, ears trained for any more noises.

 

    Finally, she reached the semi-clearing she’d been heading towards, and promptly stopped dead in her tracks.

 

    Someone else was there.

 

    Nobody was supposed to be there.

 

    She’d been counting on the fact that not many people knew about that particular spot. This was not good.

 

   She considered turning back and leaving, but as she began to turn she stepped on a dry leaf and the person - a man, she discovered - turned around quickly to face her, appearing as startled as she was sure she looked, a dagger in his hand, and she swore to herself. She wasn’t exactly unarmed herself, but it was all wrapped up inside the tarp and she didn’t think she’d have time to grab anything to defend herself with before he reached her.

 

    Neither of them moved for a long moment then he glanced behind her at the bundle she dragged with her at the same time she noticed a mass on the ground behind him that looked... very familiar. They looked back at each other and seemed to really take in the other’s appearance for the first time; he was dressed in a long-sleeved green shirt and black pants, but there was a dark splatter going up his ribs on one side, and her dress had darker patches on her abdomen and skirt that were most definitely not dirt.

 

    She laughed first; a slightly manic giggle that was equal parts amusement and relief, out past her lips before she could even think to hold it back.

 

    “Well, this is... unexpected,” He spoke, the ghost of a smile still on his face.

 

    “Quite,” She replied, brushing her hair out of her face again in a somewhat nervous gesture.

 

    Silence stretched on between them for a moment as they considered the situation and thought about their next move. They looked at each other again, then at their respective burdens, then back at each other.

 

    “It was an accident,” He said suddenly, not quite sure why, but he felt it was important somehow.

 

    “Mine wasn’t,” She replied with a careless shrug.

 

    He blinked in surprise. “I see...”

 

    Another moment of silence.

 

    “I won’t tell if you won’t,” She suggested.

 

    He breathed a laugh. “Fair enough.”

 

    With a mutual nod, they turned to attend to their respective businesses. She untied the rope and unwrapped the tarp, a bloodied hand falling onto the ground as her movements jostled its recently-deceased owner a bit. She picked up a hatchet she had tucked into the side, turned it so that the blade was facing her, and brought it up above her head before bringing it down to connect with the body’s face forcefully, splattering some blood on her face in the process. She repeated this once more before feeling eyes on her and looking up to be met with a rather bemused expression from her recent acquaintance.

 

    “I’m knocking his teeth out,” She explained, earning an even more confused look. “In case he’s found; I don’t want him identified by dental records.”

 

    “Ah,” He replied in understanding then turned back to his own body, using the hilt of his dagger to do the same as her.

 

    Teeth taken care of, she turned the hatchet around and moved onto the corpse’s hands, beginning to chop off the top knuckles, when she felt him staring at her again and looked up.

 

    “Fingerprints,” She said simply.

 

   He eyed her curiously for a moment. “Not the first time you do this, is it?”

 

    She merely shrugged noncommittally and went back to work.

 

    They settled on a single hole to dump the bodies in, working together to dig it, to save time and effort. Once that was done he raised his hand slightly and, with a slight flick of his wrist, conjured a ball of fire. Chuckling at her surprise, he tossed the ball into the hole and they silently watched as the bodies went up in flames, feeling quite accomplished.

 

    When the fire died out and only ashes remained they refilled the hole, exchanged names and a handshake, and went their separate ways after she half-jokingly invited him for a drink sometime.

 

*****

 

    He hadn’t expected to be found so soon. He thought he’d been careful.

 

    _Evidently not,_ He thought ruefully as he backed away slowly, eyeing both creatures warily, well aware they were backing him into a corner. What he wouldn’t give to have his full power right then, but he didn’t; the most he had was his dagger and the simplest of spells. He couldn’t even cast a decent illusion, a fact which irritated him to no end.

 

    Normally he’d be fine even without his seidr, he was hardly lacking in physical strength, but these weren’t normal times. It had taken so much to make his escape, and he had been practically half-dead _before_ that; he was still somewhat surprised he’d made it at all. Whether he’d continue to do so, though...

 

    One thing was certain: He was not going back.

 

    He had been ready to die before, on the edge of the Bridge what felt like a lifetime ago; he could be so again. But he was _not_ going back.

 

    With that in mind; he tightened his grip on his dagger in preparation, just as the creatures lunged at him. He had the advantage at first in that, despite having absolutely no qualms about injuring him further, they were still meant to bring him in alive. He had nearly killed one by the time they realised that was not really an option and began truly attacking him in earnest, having orders to kill him if he proved to be too much trouble.

 

    And trouble he was absolutely going to be.

 

    He managed to fell one before he felt a sharp stabbing pain on his back, right between his lower ribs, he reflexes suffering from his injuries both old and new. He managed to turn around on the floor; if he was going to die in a back alley in the middle of nowhere, he was damn well going to face his killer. The chitauri raised its weapon to strike then stopped abruptly, much to his confusion, let out a sort of gurgling sound then fell to the side, revealing...

 

    “Safira?” He looked between her, and the bloodied blade - a _machete_ of all things - in her hand, and the still-twitching chitauri on the floor.

 

    “Last I checked,” She replied with a grin. “Been quite a few moons, Loki.”

 

    “Too many...” He said quietly.

 

    She had a feeling he wasn’t referring to the situation before them but decided now was not the time to ask. Instead she offered him her hand. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

 

    Even with what help she could offer, he still had difficulty standing up, let alone walking, and was infinitely grateful that her car was nearby, though he did wonder why that was the case. And why the hel she was walking around with a machete, for that matter. He voiced the questions once they were on the road but she simply shrugged and told him not to worry about it.

 

    Her home was an old and rather worn-down looking apartment building in a seemingly deserted part of town, which raised further questions, but he didn’t bother to ask them, deciding to simply be glad that nobody would see them. The stairs proved to be a bit of a challenge and he almost passed out from the exertion once or twice, but finally they made it into her apartment. She led him to her couch and he all but collapsed onto it while she went to get her first aid kit.

 

    “Don’t take this the wrong way, luv, but you look like hell,” She voiced once she’d returned and set the kit on the coffee table before him.

 

    “Well, you certainly know how to make one feel special,” He replied with a slight smile that turned into a grimace as he sat up, earning a breath of a laugh. “Believe me; this is a vast improvement under the circumstances.”

 

    She frowned but didn’t ask him to elaborate, simply helped him out of his upper clothing and drew in a sharp breath when she saw the state he was in under them. Taking a deep breath, she opened the first aid kit and got to work; he was quiet throughout the whole thing save for the occasional hiss of pain or muttered curse. When he was as cared for as she could manage with her rather limited supplies, she led him to a bedroom and left him to rest.

 

*****

 

    He awoke to a note taped to his forehead, and was mildly annoyed but mostly concerned that he had actually slept through the act of her putting it there. Sitting up carefully, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and unfolded the paper to find her neat cursive flowing elegantly and the unmistakable shape of lips pressed on the bottom corner in dark lipstick as a signature, causing him to huff a laugh before he read the words:

 

_Had to run an errand. Help yourself to the kitchen and please remember my rule about closed doors._

 

    He rolled his eyes, dropped the note onto the bedside table and stood up, making his way to the kitchen with a hand on the wall and pretending he wasn’t doing so to keep his balance. The past month had been spent in recovery mostly at her insistence and he’d discovered that while she didn’t have that many rules, the one about staying out of closed rooms was not negotiable. He wasn’t sure just what she’d do if he decided to break it, but hadn’t been too eager to find out given his state.

 

    He had a near constant worry that he’d be found again; in fact, he was surprised he hadn’t been yet. And he considered leaving but was more than a little reluctant to give up an actual bed to rest on, food, and company that didn’t want to hurt or exploit him, and so he resolved to stay. At least until she decided he’d worn out his welcome, but that didn’t seem to be happening any time soon.

 

    When she got back he was cleaning up what he’d used in the kitchen, and so he barely glanced at her when she announced her presence as she walked past the doorway. It was only a few moments later that he registered what little he’d seen and he followed after her, walking into the bathroom without pause since the door was open, and found her peeling off a dark grey button up shirt stained with dark blotches he recognised as blood. A curious flash of concern flared in him before he looked again and realised it wasn’t _human_ blood.

 

    “If you’re going be there; be useful and wet that towel for me, will you, luv?” She asked casually as she glanced at him over her shoulder.

 

    He was moving to do as she asked before he was fully aware of it, his mind busy trying to determine if he was right about the origins of that blood. He couldn’t be... could he?

 

    “Are you...” He began to ask as she was filling the bathtub before thinking better of it and simply holding the towel out to her.

 

    She grinned widely, taking the towel and using it to wipe away light splatters of the same blood from the side of her face that he hadn’t noticed before. “Aren’t you sweet. _I’m_ perfectly fine.”

 

    He _meant_ to leave when she began to strip out of the black jeans she was wearing but found himself staring as she turned to toss them in the general direction of the laundry basket and revealed spots of blood that had soaked through her clothes and onto her skin. He was certainly no stranger to bloodshed, and the way it had settled on her most definitely did not occur if one were moving as in a fight.

 

    “My; with a stare like _that,_ it’s a wonder you’re single,” She teased as she began undoing the clasp of her bra, snapping him out of his thoughts and causing him to finally leave the room.

 

    As he shut the door and leaned on it, he turned his head towards the closed door of her bedroom and stared at it, the myriad of questions about her that he’d accumulated over the past month surfacing again. He really didn’t know that much about her, save that she seemed to enjoy taking care of him (and flirting, but that was neither here nor there) and was obviously not in the least bit shy about killing. If he was right about where the blood she was washing off herself tonight had come from; it occurred to him that might be a dangerous thing.

 

    He took a step towards her room then stopped. Did he really want to find out what the consequences for breaking the rules were? Could he risk that now?

 

    In the end he decided it was best to wait until he was stronger and instead turned to return to his room, wondering for the first time just what exactly he’d gotten himself into.

 

*****

 

    “I have a present for you,” She announced cheerfully as she walked into his room one morning.

 

    “Oh?” He returned as he stood, the action no longer straining, four months of rest doing wonders for him.

 

    “You won’t like it much to begin with, but bear with me,” She warned, holding out her hand to him with a smile.

 

    He hesitated in taking it, the wariness he’d developed since the day she’d come home covered in alien blood overriding his determination to behave as though nothing were wrong, but in the end placed his hand in her much smaller one and allowed her to lead him out of the room and the apartment altogether.

 

    His apprehension only grew as she drove them to an abandoned mill on the edge of town; the place was so run down and isolated, even the most daring teenagers left it alone. Her grabbing an ice pick from the trunk before beginning to lead them inside didn’t exactly help either.

 

    “So, what is this ‘present’, exactly?” He asked mostly to break the silence as they walked, his voice echoing eerily around them.

 

    “Patience, luv; wouldn’t want to spoil it,” She replied cheekily, slipping her free hand into his. And if she noticed how he tensed slightly despite his efforts to remain casual, she didn’t comment on it.

 

    She led them deep into the building, expertly avoiding the less stable areas in a way that told him she came there regularly, which... did nothing for his nerves. He truly wished his seidr was working properly now more than ever.

 

    They stopped outside a large metal door that appeared to have been repaired or replaced, as it was not as ruined and rusted as most of the others were, and she turned to face him with her hands clasped behind her back.

 

    “I know you have questions about me,” She began, looking serious all of a sudden, an expression he was not used to seeing on her, “I haven’t been very forthcoming even after you were, and for that I’m sorry. But I promise, after this I’ll tell you just about anything you want to know.”

 

    Before he could respond to that she smiled widely again and turned to push open the door and lead the way inside. He followed cautiously, not quite sure what to make of her sudden and brief change in demeanour. The room beyond was dark so he followed closely behind her until she stopped him and went towards what he presumed to be the light switch; he was proven correct when light flooded the room. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the brightness, but when they did he began to retrace his steps in shock, stumbling slightly in his haste to back away from what faced him until his back met the closed door.

 

    Wait, when was the door closed?

 

    He didn’t turn his head to look. He couldn’t; it meant taking his eyes off _him._

 

    He couldn’t be here. _That creature_ had no business being in this realm. He wasn’t supposed to be able to reach it, not without...

 

    His frantic thoughts ground to a halt and a damn near whimper of a sound escaped his lips when he felt a hand on his arm, head whipping down to find her eyeing him sympathetically.

 

    “Calm down, luv; he can’t hurt you anymore,” She said reassuringly, “Look again. Look _closely.”_

 

    With difficulty, he looked again, mind finally registering that his tormentor hadn’t moved. No... _couldn’t_ move, he realised. There were heavy chains trapping him onto a pillar, though by the number of wounds covering him, he wondered if they were really necessary at all. He had no idea what the creature could withstand, but given his slumped posture, he guessed it was less than he’d received.

 

    He looked back at her now slightly smiling face disbelievingly. “How...?”

 

    “Is the ‘how’ really so important right now?” She asked back with a wider smile, bringing the ice pick out from behind her back and holding it out to him, “Or the ‘why’?”

 

    He looked at the ice pick, then at the Other, then back at her, realising what she meant. He took the pick slowly, feeling the weight of it in his hand, and looked at her once more; she nodded encouragingly at him and he turned to the Other, taking a few uncertain steps in his direction before shoving his nerves away and walking more confidently.

 

    She was right; he couldn’t hurt him anymore.

 

    He was _not_ going to cower from him.

 

    Once he was standing before the creature, he used the ice pick to raise what was left of his face up to his. She’d really done a number on him; it was a wonder he was still alive. The action served to bring him back to consciousness, but only just barely.

 

    Enough.

 

    “Not quite how I expected my morning to go, but I’ll take it,” He said, more to himself than it.

 

    “Do you think this will gain you freedom?” The Other managed, “There is no escaping him. He will come for you, and when he does, you will wish you had stayed where you belong.”

 

    “What would you know of where I belong?” He half-snarled. “Perhaps he will find me, _try_ to take me back or kill me, but you certainly won’t be around to see it.”

 

    The Other let out a spiteful laugh. “You pathetic brat. You wouldn’t even have this chance if not for your whore; what hope do you have against one so much greater than I?”

 

    “We’ll just have to find out, won’t we?” He retorted. A sharp grin stretched his lips as he regarded the creature hatefully. “I _could_ just kill you, but that would be a waste, I think. No; I think I’m going to return a few favours instead...”

 

    With that, he got to work. She seemed to have anticipated his needs, as she provided him with quite a few... tools. By the time he was finished, there wasn’t much left of the creature that had caused him so much pain, at least not in any one place, and he was quite a mess. He was sure he would have to dispose of the clothes he was wearing; all that blood was not going to come out with anything.

 

    He flinched slightly when something wrapped around his waist from behind before relaxing a bit as he realised it was just her. That relaxation left as he thought about what had led to this moment; or rather, his lack of knowledge about such. He pulled away from her and turned around to regard her suspiciously.

 

    “You promised me answers. You can start by telling me one thing: No human could have done this; so what are you?” He demanded.

 

    “I’m something that shouldn’t be. Or at least that’s what they told me before I was banished,” She replied with a hint of bitterness then shrugged. “It hardly matters now; I’m not allowed to claim my ties anymore. I’m my former family’s shameful little not-secret.”

 

    The answer wasn’t all that satisfying, but he supposed it was something. At least it confirmed he was right about one thing. “Why did you do this, Safira? What could you stand to gain by it?”

 

    “Justice, for one. Or at least a version of it; I suppose I may have gotten a bit carried away,” She said with a slight laugh. She stepped closer to him and reached up to take his face in her hands. “More importantly; it gave you the beginnings of peace. You do feel a little better now, don’t you?”

 

    Well, he certainly wasn’t going to deny _that._ “But why does it matter to you if I’m at peace or not?”

 

    “Instinct, luv,” She replied, “Whatever else I am; some things just don’t go away. I’ve decided to guard you, and that is what I am going to do, the best way I know how. It’s not exactly conventional, but then, neither are we.”

 

    “No; I suppose we aren’t.” He gave it some thought then decided to risk it, curiosity overtaking sense. “And if I decide I don’t want your protection after all?”

 

    She grinned. “Then I’ll just protect you when you’re not looking.”

 

    He laughed despite himself. “No getting rid of you, is there, then?”

 

    “Not any way you’ll like.”

 

    He looked around them then back at her, making a decision.

 

    “I suppose I could do worse.”

 

    After all, why not?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ask and ye shall receive! ... Okay, fine; my muse bombarded me with ideas and wouldn't let it go. Enjoy anyway!

    “Where do you go?” He asked suddenly as they sat on the rooftop of her building one late evening taking in the cool night breeze and starry sky.

 

    It was hers, she’d confirmed; she’d bought the whole thing when she moved to the town, though she didn’t tell him how she afforded it and he didn’t really care enough to ask.

 

    “Mm, here and there,” She replied half teasingly, earning a glare she grinned at.

 

    “You promised me answers,” He reminded.

 

    “I said ‘just about anything’, luv, and I have,” She returned, causing him to look away with an irritated huff. “I check in on some people.”

 

    “What ‘people’?” He asked somewhat half-heartedly. He was beginning to think he’d never get a straight answer out of her, whatever she’d promised.

 

    “I suppose you could call them friends, since I can’t technically call them charges anymore,” She replied with a slight shrug, “I don’t stop caring just because I’m officially out of a job.”

 

    He stared at her for a long moment. “Broken ties or not; are you ever going to outright tell me what you are?”

 

    “Depends which way the wind blows, luv,” She replied with a wink, earning an eyeroll and an attempt at suppressing a smile. “Does it really matter?”

 

    “I don’t like not knowing.”

 

    “No, I suppose you wouldn’t.”

 

    They lapsed into silence again, the only sounds that of the world around them, little as it was.

 

    “You’re the reason nobody has come looking for me here.” It was not a question.

 

    She smirked. “Oh, they’ve looked...”

 

    He eyed her bemusedly. “Safira...” A pause. Did he really want to know? “... How many?”

 

    Her smirk turned into a wide, self-satisfied grin.

 

    No, he decided. He didn’t want to know.

 

*****

 

    He was curled up on the couch fiddling with a Rubik’s cube he’d found on his bedside table that morning when he heard the front door open and a loud clatter he discovered to be objects from the hallway table being knocked down as she stumbled inside. She was clutching her side and bleeding rather badly, though even then she smiled at him.

 

    “Safira, what-?” He began to ask then thought better of it and simply went over to her.

 

    She walked right by him, though she did accept his arm to steady herself when she stumbled again, and went into the kitchen. “Turn on the stove for me will you, luv?”

 

    As he did as she asked, she went over to the counter and rummaged through one of the drawers until she found a large chisel. He’d wondered why that was there, but had never bothered to ask, discovering early on in his stay that while she was a tidy person, she was not overly organised. She walked over to the stove and placed the metal of the chisel over the burner before pulling her shirt off with a hiss, making him realise her intentions.

 

    “Would you be a dear and get me a drink?” She asked, holding her shirt to the wound. He went over to the freezer and brought her a half-empty bottle of vodka, receiving a murmured thanks as he handed it over. She drank from the bottle then pulled her shirt away and poured some over the wound. “Fuck!” She hissed through gritted teeth then breathed a laugh. “I must be losing my touch.”

 

    When she deemed the chisel hot enough, she picked it up and, after a second’s hesitation to draw in a bracing breath, pressed it to the wound, screwing her eyes shut tight and letting out a litany of words he couldn’t understand (even with the Allspeak, adding to the list of his questions) but figured was most likely profanity. Without a word, he snatched the kitchen towel and ran it under the tap then held it out to her; she took it with a strained smile.

 

    “Was this because of me?” He finally asked.

 

    “It was not,” She replied before walking out of the kitchen, heading to the bathroom.

 

    He followed, lingering at the door while she took out the first aid kit to tend to herself. “You’ll be alright?”

 

    She glanced up briefly with a grin. “I’ll be alright; takes more than this to put me down.”

 

    “What happened?” He asked, not really expecting an answer. She never talked about what she did when she went out, though he was beginning to think it was at least partially out of a desire to keep him uninvolved for his own good.

 

    “Bad timing,” She replied wryly. She looked up to catch the tail end of his disappointment and gave him a somewhat apologetic look. “You know I’m not human.” He nodded. “I’m not supposed to be this breakable.”

 

    He thought for a moment. “Your banishment,” He concluded, remembering how powerless Thor had been during his banishment the previous year.

 

    She hummed in confirmation. “There’s no changing what I am, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t try; which means that sometimes parts don’t work the way they should.” She snorted amusedly. “A broken tool.”

 

    “I’m sorry,” He said before he was even aware of the words.

 

    “I’m not,” She replied with a grin, “I earned this, and I’d do it all over again.”

 

    “Why?” He asked, again before realising it. It seemed today his curiosity would not be reined in. “What was so wrong with where you came from?”

 

    “Nothing at all. To them. But I’m not them, and I never could be,” She replied without bitterness. “I had a job to do, and I did it, but it wasn’t enough. I needed more. I needed _to do_ more.”

 

    “Even if it cost you everything?”

 

    “Even then.”

 

    He stepped aside so she could pass and followed her down the hall to her bedroom door. “Was it worth it?”

 

    She paused and turned around, walked up to him and braced her hands on his shoulders to pull herself up and kiss his cheek. “Absolutely.”

 

    With that she went into her room and closed the door behind her, leaving a faint smile on his face.

 

*****

 

    He was standing in the rain, and he was unreasonably happy about the fact. At least, that’s what a part of his mind was telling him; the rest either didn’t much care or was simply too pleased to listen.

 

    Loki didn’t leave his new home (was that what it was?) often, not quite trusting the exposure such a thing inherently brought with it, but he couldn’t stay indoors forever or he’d go completely mad (as if he weren’t already, he thought amusedly); and so he got out of bed, ate the breakfast Safira had left for him (she would worry if he didn’t eat, and that had to be avoided), and walked out of the building without much of a destination in mind but ‘out’. It hadn’t started raining until he was miles away and, while he’d by then set his mind to exploring the town, he stopped, turning his face up to the sky and simply enjoying the feel of the drops on his skin.

 

    After a while, he sensed he was being watched. Reaching out subtly with his magick he tried to find where it was coming from but found nothing out of the ordinary. Not there, then. Likely remote surveillance, he surmised. He called to his power, finding that while somewhat lethargic from lack of its accustomed use, he was much stronger now with the months of rest since his escape from... since his escape.

 

    Relatively satisfied, he walked on, deciding his plan of exploration was the right call after all; better to know his environment before he would need to. Even if the idea didn’t bother him on principle (he was _not_ helpless), he couldn’t rely on Safira to always come to his rescue.

 

    The feeling of being watched didn’t diminish with time, which only put him more on edge, wondering who had found him and what they wanted. He didn’t think it was the chitauri - they weren’t exactly known for their subtlety - but that didn’t do much to identify who it _was._ He was relatively sure (hoped) Asgard didn’t know he was still alive yet (it was only a matter of time, but that was a problem to think about another day). Perhaps he’d attracted the attention of the midgardians, though he couldn’t imagine how; he hadn’t been doing much to warrant it, he didn’t think.

 

    Perhaps it wasn’t because of him at all, it occurred to him, but _her._

 

    Safira was careful not to bring work home with her, as she called it, but it would only take one slip up, wouldn’t it? With that in mind, it occurred to him that maybe he could do something for her this time. He appreciated that she was determined to protect him, that she felt she needed to, but he didn’t like being in anyone’s debt, even if he was only so in his own mind. He could even the score a little.

 

    He stayed out far longer than he’d intended when he started his trek, but the plan required so. Whoever was observing him had been forced to resort to a more hands-on approach when he’d started going into places whatever equipment they were using couldn’t follow and he now knew where they were. He deliberately revealed he knew they were there then feigned an attempt to evade them; they took the bait, as expected, and followed him right into his trap. The wards he’d placed on every exit of the building - empty due to renovations - held firm, cutting off any escape.

 

    “Now, that was just underwhelmingly easy,” Loki said aloud to the two men in suits that only now realised what had happened. They brought out guns and aimed them at him, to which he rolled his eyes. “Those won’t help you.”

 

    “We don’t want to hurt you,” One of them said.

 

    “Good, then you won’t be disappointed,” He replied easily.

 

    “You need to come with us,” The other one said.

 

    “Now why would I do that?”

 

    “We have questions.”

 

    Loki let out a laugh. “So do I, but you don’t see me attempting to abduct people for it.”

 

    “You know this woman?” The first one asked then pulled a photograph out of an inner pocket of his jacket and held it up. It was somewhat grainy, but Safira’s wide grin was quite unmistakable to him even from a distance.

 

    “I wonder,” He replied vaguely. “What is your interest in her?”

 

    “She’s a suspect in a murder,” The second man replied.

 

    Loki tried and failed to hold back an amused snort. “Just the one?”

 

    “So you know.”

 

    He shrugged. “Considering her only effort to hide it is not saying it outright...”

 

    “You need to come with us,” The first man repeated.

 

    He feigned a thoughtful expression. “Mm, no, I don’t think I will.”

 

    “It wasn’t a request,” The man said, irritation seeping into his tone.

 

    A dangerous smile stretched his lips. “Oh; I know...”

 

*****

 

    “You’re keeping secrets from me,” She said as they moved through the aisles of the store, pretending not to notice the extra things making their way to the cart.

 

    “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” He replied absently, attention mostly on trying to choose between two flavours of jam he hadn’t tried yet before deciding to just get both.

 

    “These involve me,” She clarified. He froze, not looking at her, and she took his hand in hers and gave it a light squeeze, causing him to relax. “I only worry, is all.”

 

    “I’m not a defenceless child, Safira,” He said sharply, pulling his hand back.

 

    “I know that, luv,” She replied soothingly. “I still worry. It’s what I do.”

 

    “You’re not my mother.”

 

    She let out a laugh. “Now that would just be weird.”

 

    He tried to fight the smile and failed miserably, earning a grin that finally drew the chuckle out of him. They continued on with the shopping without any more said on the subject, but he knew it wasn’t over. He was more surprised it had taken her this long to find him out; she always seemed to know when something was off. Or maybe she _had_ known and only waited to be sure he intended to keep it a secret before bringing it up. He supposed he’d find out when they got back home.

 

    He stalled by putting away the groceries as soon as they arrived in the apartment and she let him, patiently handing him things from the bags without a word, smiling amusedly when she thought he wasn’t looking. Once that was done he turned to her, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

    “You’re not as careful as you seem to think you are,” He finally said.

 

    “Aren’t I?” She joked.

 

    He walked out of the kitchen, going to his room and coming back out with an object in his hands. He handed it to her, revealing it to be a badge of some sort; it had an eagle with a shield in the centre, the words ‘Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement Logistics Division’ engraved around it.

 

    “They had questions,” He explained.

 

    She huffed a laugh. “Don’t we all.”

 

    “About you,” He added. “They know you killed someone.”

 

    “Only someone?” She asked amusedly.

 

    “I never said they were well informed,” He replied with a slight shrug, “They did, however, have your picture.”

 

    “I hope it’s a good one, at least.” She handed the badge back. “They still breathing?”

 

    “Do they have to be?”

 

    “Depends on them.”

 

    “They were when I left them, though I do hope they speak Portuguese.”

 

    She eyed him questioningly but he merely smirked and returned to his room to put the badge away. She shook her head with a laugh and went to kitchen to get lunch started. She wasn’t sure how she felt about someone looking out for her for a change, but as long as he wasn’t hurt she decided it didn’t bother her overmuch. As long as he didn’t make a habit of it.

 

*****

 

    They were on a vacation of sorts; she’d decided she wanted a change of scenery one day out of the blue and so they’d packed a bag and left. He didn’t mind the suddenness; he’d been wanting to travel as well, a year of nothing but the same town wearing on him.

 

    He felt the change in the air as they wandered the deserted streets of a city they were not supposed to be in long before he realised what it was; the clouds gathering, the rain. The thunder. By the time it really registered, it was too late to avoid it.

 

    He only barely had enough time to grab Safira by the waist and move back before Thor landed in front of them with enough force to crack the ground, and he spared a moment to wonder what in Hel the idiot was thinking even as a stab of fear went through him at seeing his brother (not his brother) again.

 

    “Loki.” It was practically an accusation, the way it was spoken, and he couldn’t help but flinch slightly.

 

    “Thor; fancy meeting you here,” He greeted, voice _far_ steadier than he was feeling.

 

    “You think this a joke? We believed you dead,” Thor spat.

 

    “Sorry to disappoint,” He retorted coldly. “I assume you’re here to fix that.”

 

    “Why would I be-?” Thor began then stopped with a slight shake of his head. “I’ve come to bring you _home.”_

 

    “‘Home’, is it? And which ‘home’ would that be, I wonder? _Surely_ you’ve been told by now, or did your banishment teach you the _value_ of blindly following orders as intended?” Loki retorted mockingly.

 

    “I know,” Thor replied, trying to keep his anger in check, “It makes no difference.”

 

    That was apparently the wrong thing to say, if the storm that passed Loki’s expression was any indication.

 

    “It makes _all the difference!”_ Loki spat, “But of course it doesn’t affect _you,_ so why would it matter?”

 

    “That is not what I meant, and you know it,” Thor said angrily. “You are still my brother.”

 

    “No, I am not. I never was. I never will be,” Loki replied with what he intended to be finality. So why did it sound as though he were trying to convince himself as well? He shoved the thought aside. Now was _not_ the time.

 

    “Loki, I know you are angry-” Thor began, but was cut off by a burst of magick that threw him back several feet.

 

    “Angry? _Angry??”_ Loki yelled, moving towards Thor and knocking him back with another burst of magick when he got back up. “You have _no idea_ how I feel!” Another blast. “You haven’t known for _centuries,_ you self-centred fuck!” Another. “You just know what’s _convenient!”_

 

    “Enough!” Thor half roared.

 

    The hammer was flying towards Loki almost before he was fully conscious of the fact that he’d thrown it. Loki realised his mistake too late and mentally braced himself for the coming pain, but it failed to arrive; instead, he watched as Safira moved to stand before him and, before he could react, batted Mjolnir away as though it were nothing but a toy, sending it flying into the wall of the nearest building. For a moment - just a moment - he could have sworn he saw the faintest shapes of... _wings..._ sprouting from her back, but they were gone by the time he blinked, and he could almost think he simply imagined it.

 

    She was livid in the face of their shock; it practically rolled off her in waves. “You _dare.”_

 

    “How...?” Thor managed, voice not nearly as strongly as intended.

 

    Loki could only stare in disbelief. He’d known there was more power to her than was apparent; there had to be, for her to have taken on who knew how many chitauri and captured the Other by herself. But this? This was something else entirely. He meant to move, not even sure what he was going to do any more than he knew what she would, but he found he couldn’t.

 

    He remained rooted to his spot as she walked over to Thor.

 

    He remained rooted to his spot as her hand shot up to grab him by the neck and squeezed hard enough to cut off his air.

 

    He remained rooted to his spot even as she brought him to his knees, finally loosening her hold only slightly when he was about to pass out.

 

    “You do not touch him,” She warned slowly, voice as icy as her gaze, “Or I will rip you apart.”

 

    “Safira,” He finally managed somewhat shakily, “Don’t. You can’t.”

 

    “I can and I will,” She retorted, not taking her eyes off Thor. “I will.”

 

    His body responded to his commands at last and he walked up to her, hesitating for a moment before reaching out and grabbing her free arm. She looked up to him, the menace in her eyes immediately replaced by warmth and concern.

 

    “Don’t,” He repeated, not caring at the moment how pleading he sounded, “Killing him will have consequences.”

 

    “That’s rather the point, luv,” She replied with a slight smile. The contrast was jarring.

 

    “Not the ones you intend,” He insisted, “They will kill you. And then who will look after all of us under your care?”

 

    Her hand on Thor’s throat twitched, drawing a slight hiss from him, then she released him, leaving him coughing and gasping for breath. She eyed him with an expression akin to disgust before looking back at Loki.

 

    “I won’t hold back forever.”

 

    “I know.” He turned to Thor. “Go back to Asgard; I’m staying here.”

 

    Thor stood, his lungs still burning and he was more than sure his neck would bruise. “I can’t simply leave you.”

 

    “It would hardly be the first time,” Loki replied bitterly.

 

    “Brother-”

 

   “You don’t call me that. You don’t deserve it.”

 

    “How can I, if you don’t give me the chance to?”

 

    Loki’s smile was as sharp as it was empty. “Congratulations, Thor; you finally understand how I feel.”

 

    With that, he grabbed Safira’s hand, turned and walked away without so much as a backwards glance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to yell at me/curse my name/etc. in the comments.
> 
>  
> 
> No, but seriously, please comment.


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